


Generous Offers

by QuillTea



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Paz, Alien/Human Relationships, Body Modification, Breeding Kink, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Fisting, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oviposition, Smut, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillTea/pseuds/QuillTea
Summary: Din takes a shaky breath. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly volunteering himself. Doesn’t know what compelled him to fucking ask that. But he’s been well traveled between the Purge and finding this tribe, and encountered much…weirderthings. He’s met species that reproduce through eggs. He’s heard things.Seenthings.He’s interested. He’s horribly interested.Paz has... an issue, and the newberoyaoffers to help.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla
Comments: 98
Kudos: 672





	1. Interest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueTeaParty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTeaParty/gifts), [MissTeaVee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/gifts).



> Gifted to BlueTeaParty and MissTeaVee. Fucking enablers. It's their fault this exists. (And I love them both.)
> 
> Pure oviposition filth, because when you have an overactive mind and tentacle art keeps getting sent, things just happen.
> 
> (Mildly dubious consent tag is in place because Din agrees without Paz really explaining everything. Just a precaution.)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://quilltea.tumblr.com/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din discovers something about one of the Mandalorians in his new tribe.

The sounds of grunts and hisses fill the room. Paz’s hits are hard and heavy, merciless, brutal. He’s never been one to take things lightly, and Din hasn’t, either. He strikes just as hard, straight at what he knows to be Paz’s weak points, knowledge refined by months now of sparring experience.

Din had once struggled to win any fight. Most of the older boys, the larger boys, could knock him on his ass with ease. But then Din had come into his growth spurt, shooting up in height and his muscles and weight eventually following. Once he’d filled out, fully grown, the tide of the training fights had turned. Since Din joined this tribe a few months ago, Paz never handed him the win, but Din could snake it now, find the one slam that let him take the fight as another notch under his belt. That said, those fights are few and far between.

This is different.

Paz is  _ almost  _ handing him the win, and that’s throwing Din off.

They’re further down from the covert’s main tunnels, far enough that the loudest chatter or laughter is muted, where the kids aren’t allowed to run for fear of getting lost and where the others don’t care to wander. It’s private, and theirs, and where they dance this same months-long dance. Din ducks beneath a punch and jabs an elbow to the side of Paz’s ribs. The larger Mandalorian hisses and turns, reaching out to grab Din, but he slips away with grace. He backs up to put several feet between them, on the balls of his feet, but frowns.

Paz bends over, hands on his knees, panting. Din stares at him. It’s odd that he would be this tired this fast, but Din doesn’t dare step close, far too wary of a trap. “What is it?” he asks. “Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Paz growls.

Din frowns. “You’re fighting like shit.”

“I’m not yielding.”

Din isn’t one to be goaded into challenges. But in the safety of a sparring match, with someone who has frustrating pride but no desire to actually hurt him, he’ll allow it. He dives in for another strike. Paz sees it, brings up his knee at the last second, and their armor  _ clacks  _ as it drives into Din’s stomach. He gasps and stumbles, but keeps his feet, instead dancing away again.  _ Okay, wasn’t the best move.  _ Paz turns with him, hands up, but the lack of concentration is clear as day.

“What’s going on?” Din demands now. “I messed up. You should have had me there.”

Paz makes a frustrated noise in his throat. “... Eggs,” he says. He’s out of breath. His hands drop from their guard, down to his side as he straightens somewhat.

Din stops, then, any thought of a fight wiped from his mind. He straightens, too. His eyes are big behind his visor.  _ “Eggs?”  _ he repeats. “What the fuck are—“

It’s an opening and Paz takes it. He kicks off the ground to lunge forward and Din tries to dive out of the way but he’s grabbed around the waist, taken down to the ground with a shout and the crack of his helmet against the floor. Paz gives him a rough pull and then Din is looking up at Paz who straddles his waist, his wrists grabbed and pinned above his head. Din’s face burns with humiliation, but he can’t help but… not  _ care. _

“What did you mean, eggs?”

For a moment, Paz only stares at him. “I meant…” he pauses. “My eggs. I’m… in… my species’ breeding cycle.”

Din doesn’t speak. Neither move, until Din finally moves his lips again. “Breeding cycle,” he says. “Your spe… you’re  _ human.” _

“I’m human- _ oid,”  _ Paz grunts, and he’s still out of breath. He hunches over Din for a moment before straightening. His hips rock on Din as he does it and Din swallows. “My reproductive system is… the most glaring difference between you and I.”

Paz’s grip doesn’t move. Din doesn’t want it to. “You lay eggs, then,” he says. “In your… females?”

Paz lets out a breathy laugh. “There’s too few of us to be… that exclusive,” he says. “Any biological host — if they can… can keep warm. Contain the eggs. Expel them for hatching. That’s all.”

“Your cycle is… you  _ have  _ to lay in someone? Like…”

“Like menstruation,” Paz says, and he shifts again. Din sucks in a breath at Paz’s…  _ grinding  _ on him, and at first he thinks he’s just pathetically desperate himself when he realizes Paz  _ is  _ actually grinding down on the ridges of his cuirass, out of breath. “This is… f-five days. Or so. It’ll pass.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I lay and then fertilize them. I don’t, then they just…” Paz takes a breath. “Dissolve. I’ll be… fine.”

“Do you…  _ need  _ someone, though?”

“I--” Paz stops. He stares down at Din, and Din stares back, and for too long they’re both silent. “You…”

Din takes a shaky breath. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly volunteering himself. Doesn’t know what compelled him to fucking ask that. But he’s been well traveled between the Purge and finding this tribe, and encountered much…  _ weirder  _ things. He’s met species that reproduce through eggs. He’s heard things.  _ Seen  _ things.

He’s interested. He’s horribly interested.

“I’m… offering?” he says, voice coming out high pitched like confidence is not a word he knows.

Paz stares at him longer. “You’re serious,” he says. “You’re…”

“I am.”

“You’re offering to  _ let  _ me lay eggs in you.”

“... Yes.”

“Din,  _ children.” _

“... Are the future?” he tries, cheeky grin hidden by the helmet, and Paz snorts, head ducking between his arms. But he starts to rock on Din, the humor disappearing, and he instead lets out a shaky breath. Din is getting hard. Paz reaches out and slips his thumb beneath his helmet, running it along the skin of his jaw.

“I’ve  _ wanted…”  _ he stops. “So long. Couldn’t ask. You’re so…  _ perfect,  _ Din, perfect mate, so strong.”

The grip on his arms tightens. Paz is already panting, worked up, and Din is breathless. He’ll take the compliment, and ignore what seems to be the semi-love confession. “W… What do I need to know?” he asks, staring up at Paz.

“I have… parts.” Paz swallows. “That’ll take care of it. Three. Prep, laying, fertilizing.”

“... Okay.” Din shifts his legs. “I just… take it?”

Paz nods. “I do all of it.” He makes a small hiss and lifts off Din. He grabs Din’s arm and wrenches him over, onto his front, before he’s sitting to pin his thighs. He reaches beneath to unbuckle his two belts and Din draws in a breath, lifting against Paz’s weight to help.

His pants are dragged down his thighs. Din gasps and braces his forearms against the floor.  _ This is fast,  _ he thinks, hearing Paz unbuckle his own belt. This is very fast. A few minutes ago, he’d thought Paz was as human as he is. Now, he’s putting himself on offer to be a host to his  _ eggs.  _ Doubt starts to creep in that maybe he should put it off for a day, just to think on—

Something wet and slippery shoves against his hole and that thought is gone.

He twists to look. His eyes widen. Paz has his trousers sitting open, and from the fabric protrudes a long, pink tentacle, with a round head like a ball and a swollen shaft. Paz strokes it up and down, not actually moving himself as the head tries to enter Din. “Wait,” Din gasps, feeling it push harder, “didn’t — prep—“

The head pops inside him. It slides deep right away, every inch slicked up, and it’s  _ in.  _ Din chokes and squirms, feeling the thing burrow into him. It reaches far deeper than he’s ever taken anything, and while past lovers have had… interesting parts, none were like  _ this.  _ Slick drips down from his hole to his front, to his hardening cock, and Din buries his helmet into his arms with a strained groan.

“This  _ is  _ prep,” Paz pants, and he moans. He leans forward, hands planted on Din’s back, keeping him down. Din gasps and whimpers, feeling it continue to slide into his guts. His heart is pounding, the sensation alien to his body, and he fights the urge to buck Paz off and escape. Finally, it stops, and he breathes a sigh of relief. But then, the stretch begins to increase. 

“What--”

The tentacle is swelling, stretching him, filling him further. Din grabs desperately at the floor. He’s panting, overwhelmed, and then it begins to pull backwards. It drags back from him by several inches, then thrusts forward, and he can’t bring himself to either moan or scream. His belly begins to cramp. Paz sighs above him. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and the thing sets a pace, somehow right between fast and slow, and Din is  _ drenched  _ in sweat.  _ “Perfect,  _ Din…”

“Are you c…  _ controlling  _ it?” Din strains to speak.

“No.”

“What is it  _ doing?” _

“Preparing you to…” Paz rocks forward with another pleased sigh. “To take the eggs. Making sure you can… hold them. Lubrication. You’re so good, Din, you’re… you’ll be able to. You feel so  _ good.” _

“Fuck!” Din whimpers.

“Breathe.” Paz’s hand strokes his hip. “Pheromones. Just needs… a minute. You’ll love it.”

It digs so deep. Din groans and squirms beneath Paz. But then the tentacle seems to tremble inside him and slowly, it begins to retract. Din lets out a breath of relief, but then he’s…  _ fuck.  _ He doesn’t want it to disappear. Slick is dripping between his legs to the floor, his cock completely ignored, and Din whimpers. “No,” he begs, feeling his heart pound, feeling the tentacle pull from him.  _ “Wait.”  _ He tries to clamp down but it slips out anyway, and he feels terribly empty. The cramps disappear as quickly as they came. He turns his head to look back, and lets out a breath as the appendage disappears back into Paz’s trousers.

“There you go,” Paz says, hand stroking Din’s skin. He’s out of breath. “So — so fucking good, Din. You’ll take them so well. Just… hold still—“

Something warm and  _ big  _ threatens to push inside him now and as much as he wants to let it, Din throws a hand down to push it away. “Wait,” he gasps. “Just… let me up. Let me see.”

Paz hesitates, but he releases Din, lifting his weight off. Din rolls over onto his back and sits up, legs spread, out of breath himself. He looks down at Paz and sucks in a breath at the thick, pink-purplish tentacle that greets him now. It’s more like a tube, pulsating and dripping with clear slick, and it has obvious intent on  _ entering Din.  _ But he blocks himself with one hand and takes hold of it with the other, far more concerned with--

“You have  _ teeth?” _

Paz shudders rather than respond. The appendage seems to switch its attention to Din’s touch, and Din dares to stroke it, but his eyes are fixed to the tiny, in-facing  _ fangs  _ that ring around the head. As Din strokes up and down, the thing seems to almost fucking  _ purr  _ in his hands, its opening deciding to close up even as it still drips with slick.

“Once I’m breeding —  _ laying  _ in you,” Paz says, “it’s… locked in. Teeth extend. Grip you. Until it’s done, so you c… can’t escape.” The larger Mandalorian moans, and as Din speeds up his touch, he almost whimpers. “Hard to find compatible mates, have to…”

“Have to see it through.”

Paz nods. “Please, Din,” he breathes. “Let m… me. Let me use you — you’d look so  _ good,  _ so pretty—“

Din spreads his knees further and Paz makes a primal growl. He grabs Din’s wrists and shoves him down onto his back, pinning his arms to the ground by his head, and Din sucks in a breath but makes no move to defend himself. The tentacle changes back to its original course and the head burrows itself against Din’s entrance, smearing against the slick that drips from him, trying to push its way in.

Din gasps. Precum drips from his cock and he throws his head back, panting, already feeling the  _ size  _ of what’s trying to get inside. “Relax,” Paz orders, and he’s  _ trying,  _ until it finally spreads him. He whimpers. Once the end of the tentacle has gotten past his rim, it flares open, and Din can feel every little nub of the lowered teeth drag against his walls. Like the first tentacle, the second one goes deeper, deeper,  _ deep. _

But now, it feels like heaven.

Paz is panting with anticipation above him. Din feels wrecked as is. He arches his back and squirms against Paz’s grip, but the larger Mandalorian holds him down, far too close for Din to fight even if he wants to. Slick coats the inside of his thighs and he’s almost cooking alive with the heat in his armor.

“Touch me,” Din pleads. “P-Paz. Please. My… cock, please, let m-me cum—”

_ “Manda.”  _ Paz pays no attention to him at all, fingers digging into Din’s wrists, beskar clacking when his helmet drops against Din’s shoulder. He jerks Din closer, tucked beneath him almost protectively, and he grips Din with arms around his torso instead. Their bodies are pressed flush together and Din grasps desperately at Paz’s armor for a hold.

He feels like he’s going to go insane without this.

Finally, the tentacle stops moving. Din gasps and grabs on again to Paz, hands gripping his cape, pulling on the fabric for support. Paz is silent, holding onto Din as tight as he can, and the smaller Mandalorian’s knees are hiked over his thighs. For a moment, nothing happens at all. Paz pulsates inside him, but it isn’t new, and the anticipation burrows into Din’s skin. “How… many?” he gasps, but Paz doesn’t answer, instead tightening all over. His grip on Din is squeezing.

Then, he relaxes, letting out a sigh, and his helmet rests on Din’s shoulder.

The tentacle swells, and Din is about to stiffen, to panic that he  _ can’t  _ take that stretch, when it passes. Instead, he feels the first egg — or eggs — be pushed inside him, the tentacle flexing as it moves along. A few seconds later, it happens again. Din whimpers and shudders, letting out a breathy moan.

Eggs being laid in his body should be… horrifying.

Instead, he’s sure he’s about to cum from it.

Every passing egg brushes against his prostate, earning desperate squirming for relief, and Paz’s armor is  _ something  _ to grind against. Paz lets out a shaky breath, followed by a groan, and Din lets out a moan.  _ “Paz,”  _ he begs, “fucking there, please, just--”

A hand grasps him. “Cum,  _ cyar’ika,”  _ Paz growls, and Din doesn’t need the encouragement. Just as another is planted in him, he releases, grasping desperately at Paz as he goes over the edge. He tightens up, panting like he’s just run miles. For a few precious seconds, his mind completely blanks, consumed instead by the strength of his orgasm.

“Good boy,” Paz murmurs, holding onto him. Din pants, head tilted back, unresponsive to Paz’s nuzzles. “So good. Perfect.”

He’s done.

He’s spent.

He doesn’t know how many eggs have been planted in him, whether it be five or fifty. But eventually, the tentacles begins to pull out of him. It comes out of his body with a squelch and he doesn’t move. His eyes are shut, panting, feeling Paz shift overtop of him. Then a hand comes to his belly, and—

Din pushes himself up onto his elbows, looking down.  _ Fuck.  _ It’s good that his utility belt is already off — his stomach is distended, swollen as if he were pregnant, and he just stares at the bump in silence. Paz’s hand cradles it, and while a good part of him is repulsed by the  _ wrong  _ image — another part of him could almost get hard for another round.

The ovipositor has already disappeared back into Paz. The third appendage snakes out in its place. It’s pink like the first one, long, already dripping an off-white liquid. Din stares at it, panting, then drops down onto his back again. He reaches back to pillow his head on his arms. The arousal is edging away, but they’ve come this far, and—

“Shii — wait.” Paz grabs his knee. Din looks down again and pushes up to see that Paz is grasping his own tentacle in a restraining grip, as hard as it tries to seek Din out. “We should… talk.”

“... About what?”

“What this… is.” Paz has to lean back from him, gripping just beneath his knee, his grip tight on himself. It’s squirming against his hand, and he makes a pained sound. “If I fertilize these and you c… carry them.”

“There’s a… choice?”

“I already laid the eggs. That’s all I  _ have  _ to do for relief.” Paz lets out a breath. “Fertilizing is just… instinct for reproduction. I don’t have to. Unless you want to actually carry them.”

Din swallows. “Uh.” He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. “Are they going to get… bigger?”

“They’ll each swell a few centimeters more. They’re soft now. They’ll be fertilized, and stay there to grow. Your body k… keeps them warm. Hardened for release.” Paz has to let out another huff, gripping the tentacle as it tries to thrash free of his hand. Din sits up and reaches out to take hold of it. Paz shudders, but as Din strokes, the appendage seems to… calm.

“So I’d be an incubator,” he says. Paz nods, hand grabbing Din’s knee. “For… how long?”

“It’s…” Paz stops. His grip tightens on Din. “Hard to say. I’ve never bred with… anyone. And I was raised by human Mandalorians. My species is… uh.”

“Almost extinct.”

“I met another. They explained a few things. And whatever’s documented in medical archives.” Din can hear the uncertainty, almost shyness, in his voice. “Incubation should be… uh…”

The time is a rough estimate. Din’s hand stops and he stares at Paz, then swallows. “That… long.”

Paz stares back, and when the tentacles starts to squirm again, he grabs it with both hands. “That long,” he says.

“I have to  _ hunt,”  _ Din says. “I’m  _ beroya,  _ I can’t be here that—” He stops and shakes his head. “No. If I’m… that doesn’t work. I can’t hunt like this. And if they come out at a bad time—”

“It’s fine,” Paz says quickly, but his shoulders slump and there’s a deflated tone in his voice. Din frowns and watches the thrashing tentacle before he reaches out with both hands, taking hold of it. He remembers Paz’s talk of earlier, of having wanted to ask Din to be a host, and thinks now of how eager Paz had been to use him—

“Just… not  _ this  _ time,” he says. “Not now.”

Paz straightens again. “This time,” he says.

Din watches the tentacle, slow but firm in moving his hands up and down it. He takes a shaky breath and nods. “We can consider it. When I’m… here that long.”

“Thank you,” Paz whispers.

Din looks up at him, then back down again. It  _ does  _ seem to act like it has its own mind, acting on instinct and impulse rather than what Paz may want it to do. But overall, it seems to be seeking stimulation, and it’ll settle for Din to stroke with both hands. Paz shudders, and lets go of it to grab onto Din’s thighs. “Fuck,” the larger Mandalorian whispers.

“I’d ask to suck it,” Din murmurs, “but I don’t trust that it wouldn’t find  _ another  _ way to fertilize the eggs.”

Paz lets out a breathy laugh. “Let me… cum on you?”

Din looks up at him. “How easy will that be to clean off?”

“Easy.”

Din bites his lip, then begins to work his hands. It isn’t completely new, to jerk off a partner’s  _ interesting _ anatomy. Paz pants under his touch and Din moves faster, finding a rhythm. Paz slumps back, head ducked down, but Din follows. He kneels between the larger Mandalorian’s legs and bumps their helmets together, out of breath himself, hands moving fast up and down the length. Precum -- or cum, Din doesn’t know -- is dripping down from its opening and Din licks his lips.

Another time.

Paz is the one whimpering now, grabbing Din to drag him close. “Please,” he begs, and Din falls into his lap, but one hand catches himself while the other keeps rubbing. He reorients himself and leans into Paz’s chest, looking down as he resumes the pace. “Din. Din,  _ fuck  _ — let me… once, the next time, you look so —  _ gorgeous,  _ could carry so well—“

He’s a mess, ready to fall apart, and Din smirks. To see the powerful warrior reduced to begging and pleading beneath him, it’s more than attractive. “Next time,” he promises, hands moving. “I’ll take your eggs again. You can fertilize. I’ll carry. I want to feel these inside me again.” His hands are fast and quick. “Cum on me. Paz.  _ Cum.” _

“H-Helmet—“

Paz lets out a shout and grabs Din, tensing up. His mind feels slow but Din turns the tentacle’s tip up towards his helmet just in time for it to spurt liquid cum over his visor. Paz is panting and the tentacle throbs in his hand, and there are only initial spurts before the cum just…  _ pours.  _ Din stares at it, barely seeing past his now-splotchy vision, and then down at his front. The cum is dripping down his cuirass, over his swollen belly, and they just hang in that space.

“How much…” 

“A-A bit.”

Din watches. Eventually, the flow does stop, but now there’s plenty of cum drenching his front and forming a puddling between them. The tentacle slowly goes limp, and then begins to retract. Paz tries to catch his breath, then grabs and pulls Din into his lap. Din gasps and grabs onto him, then settles. He feels… content. Paz holds him in strong arms and their helmets lean together, even with the cum covering Din.

“Thank you.”

Din nods, then shifts again before he pauses. He looks down at his abdomen, very much distended, and swallows. “How do these come out?” he asks.

Paz rubs his stomach in slow circles. “Unfertilized,” he murmurs, “the next time you use the ‘fresher.”

“Okay,” Din says, but then he freezes and looks up at Paz. “... Fuck.”

“What?”

“I have to fucking walk  _ back  _ to the others looking like this? I might have to go to my  _ ship — I...” _

Paz stares at him. For a few moments, there’s silence, and then he laughs. He  _ laughs,  _ loud and hard, pulling Din close, and Din sputters with indignity. “You  _ ass,  _ don’t fucking  _ laugh  _ at me, you—”

But Paz’s shoulders tremble, even if he mutes his audial output, and Din gives him a hard shove. The larger Mandalorian falls back and pulls Din with him. Din groans as he hunches over Paz, letting out a sigh.

_ Bastard. _

But Din smiles, too.


	2. Practice Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din returns home from hunting, but he's a bit early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part!
> 
> I'd like to write a third part here where Paz does fertilize the eggs. And I have a bonus chapter in mind. Let me know if you guys are interested in this being continued like that!

Din isn’t entirely sure what this means for  _ them.  _

He’s a liar if he says he didn’t get on his ship —  _ egg-free, thank the stars —  _ and immediately think about what he had just done. That the sensation of Paz’s tentacles burrowing into the deepest parts of him didn’t linger in his thoughts, even as he chased down his quarries. That he didn’t freeze the target and then curl up in his pilots’ chair to jerk off, imagining eggs pumping into him.

_ Paz Vizsla, you ruined me. _

He’s had past lovers that stayed on his mind but never had he felt this swept up. Never has he entertained even the thought of letting those lovers do something like this to him. He was always cautious. He’s encountered ones who wanted him to make a baby and raise it, and there was one who wanted to brand him with their signet so  _ rivals  _ couldn’t touch him. He knows when to run.

This is not one of the times to run.

Or maybe his judgment is skewed.

When he returns to the covert, pockets heavy with credits and holding bags of supplies, his turn is done. By the time his foot touches the floor of the sewers, the next Mandalorian is already going, slipping by fast enough that Din doesn’t even see who it is. He heads to the forge first, as is custom, to present their matriarch with the credits he’s earned them and what supplies he has brought back.

As she examines each item, she does not look at Din, seeming focused until she speaks. “Our  _ al’verde  _ has informed me of…  _ plans  _ you two have.”

Din’s breath hitches. In an instant, his face is red, and his hands turn to fists at his knees, her words hitting him with utter humiliation. “He…” he swallows. “He  _ told  _ you.”

“If you intend on activities that will contribute  _ multiple  _ new members to our tribe, I think I ought to know,” she says, with just enough of a bite in her voice for Din to feel chastised. He dips his head, even as his blush is relentless. “Though I certainly do not care for the details.”

“Of course,” he mutters, and they return their attention to the supplies.

When he’s free to venture out from the forge, his contributions appreciated, the anticipation builds. He didn’t see Paz when he walked in and doesn’t see him now — and the Mandalorian is difficult to miss. Din walks around the tunnels, greeting the others, and gives a few hugs to the foundlings who run up to him. But his thoughts keep returning to dirtier things and when he can’t find Paz, he turns on his heel.

Their sparring spot.

He starts down the tunnels, walking away from the group. His footsteps echo against the walls, and the quiet chatter of the tribe begins to fade behind him. The way is familiar, the path he’s walked again and again to take on Paz. They never  _ intended  _ for it to be such a private space. But it happens on its own.

He sets foot down the last turn and in an instant, he’s grabbed by strong arms and shoved back. “Hey!” he shouts in alarm, straining at first against the arms out of instinct. But Paz’s shape is familiar and the way he holds Din is enough for him to relax. Din looks up at the blue mass, darkened with light sources behind him. He reaches up to grab his shoulders as a knee pushes between his thighs. “Fu—“

“Been waiting.” Paz’s helmet shoves beside his own, beskar clinking. “Been  _ waiting  _ for you.”

Din lets out a breath, then looks up with a sharp inhale. “You  _ told  _ her.”

Paz pauses at his words and presses his body against Din’s. “... Had to? If I’m  _ fertilizing—“ _

“Never mind.” A hand comes down to cup between his legs and Din gasps, pushing up into it. “... Fuck. I keep — keep  _ thinking  _ about it, so just — if you lay them now—“

“Can’t.” Paz rubs him and Din moans but disappointment floods in, making his shoulders practically deflate. “... It’s the wrong time in my cycle. I’d need another week.”

“I have to  _ wait?” _

Paz laughs and his hand shifts, disappearing for only a moment so he can start to untie Din’s pants. “I’m glad you’re so eager.” He tugs the fabric down, then grasps Din’s cock and draws it out. He strokes slow and light, fingers barely touching Din’s skin, then gives Din another push into the wall; his own shoulder pins Din’s. The hunter gasps, pushing back against the larger’s hold, but he’s pinned. “You’re a perfect little vessel.”

“Let me  _ look?” _

Paz’s hand stops, and then he bumps their helmets together. “Look.”

“What you have. Parts.” Din hesitates. “If you don’t have eggs — can you still…”

Silence hangs between them, but then Paz laughs and steps back, dragging Din with him. “Can I still fuck you?” he says. “Can I still make you scream for me?”

Din’s face heats. “Please,” he whispers.  _ “Pleas—” _

In an instant, he’s grabbed and swung down, his back hitting the floor with a  _ tink  _ of beskar and his own surprised grunt. Paz kneels between his legs, hands planted on either side of Din, before he shifts weight and reaches down to grab at his own pants. Din pushes up on his elbows, taking in a breath, to watch. “I want to see all of it,” he murmurs.

Paz gives him a look, and an amused breath. He sits back from Din and opens the fabric, lifting himself to tug his pants down, and Din is quick to be the one between his legs. While his own cock stands erect, it’s taking a back seat to his newfound curiosity. “Can you  _ ever  _ control them?”

“When I’m aroused but not… laying.” Paz pulls the fabric down further to reveal more skin and Din stares at him. He pulls one glove off and reaches out to the very human-looking skin at Paz’s hip, and the larger Mandalorian gasps at the touch. Din runs his fingers along it.

“You really look human?” Din presses his fingertips in, but the skin gives the same way it would for anyone, a soft layer of fat on top but hardened muscles right beneath. “... You said your reproductive system is the biggest difference.”

“I look human.” Paz’s hands have completely stopped under Din’s touch. “Finder… didn’t realize what he’d brought home.” Paz chuckles, but Din hears a note of discomfort about the subject and frowns to himself. “Right. Sexual system is… big difference. All internal. Room for the… things, and room for eggs.”

Din’s eyes drift inward, between Paz’s legs, and he shifts closer with interest. He didn’t get a good look at anything last time, when Paz had been mostly clothed and Din had been far too concerned with the tentacle in his guts to really understand. Now, he finds himself looking at what his mind links to a woman’s parts; pink, wet folds like a cunt, though no tentacles present.

“They come out of here?” he murmurs, and his gloved hand comes to it, fingers running over the folds. Paz lets out a gasp and shudders before he nods. Din looks up at him, then pushes his fingers inside.

“Fuck!” Paz grabs his wrist and pushes himself back. He’s out of breath. “N… Nothing’s supposed to go up there.”

Din sits back on his heels. “Nothing’s supposed to go up  _ my  _ ass but that’s where you’re all excited to put your  _ eggs,”  _ he says. He pauses. “... Does it hurt?”

“No. Just… feels  _ off.” _

“I’m not  _ trying  _ to find a way to fuck you in return, but…” Paz lets out a huff and Din chuckles. “Can you let me try again?”

“... Undress first.”

Din doesn’t need to be told twice. He and Paz both get to fully stripping their lower halves, comfortably safe in the tunnels and far from their brothers and sisters in arms. The pants, boots, and beskar are tossed aside and Din waits impatiently. As soon as Paz sits back, knees spread, Din is between them.

_ “Slow,”  _ Paz urges. “... Take off your gloves. Hands are probably cleaner.”

_ True.  _ Din pulls off his second glove and tosses it. One hand comes to Paz’s folds and he dips two fingers in, just feeling, and Paz draws in a breath. It’s well lubricated, and some part of Din is apprehensive too, not exactly sure what he’ll end up touching. But he pushes his fingers deeper, and Paz makes a strained moan. His knees try to come together, instead just tight around Din’s waist.

He’s not… entirely sure where his fingers are. It seems like the space is just empty. He inches his last two knuckles in, curious about how much he can fit, and Paz lets out another strained noise. But he just lies back, widening his legs, and Din takes it as permission. “What is…”

His fingers brush against something that pulsates. He jerks back and looks up at Paz, “What is that?”

“Egg sac.” Paz looks down at him, breathless. “... Actually f-feels… good.”

Din watches him, then licks the corner of his mouth and presses his hand in again. Paz moans, letting out huffs of air, and Din feels his cock  _ ache  _ as his whole hand slips inside. The ovipositor makes the same stretch, he supposes, but Paz  _ tightens  _ around his wrist with a shudder and then something brushes against his hand—

He almost jerks back again in surprise, but the shape and Paz’s puff of  _ “no”  _ keep him in place. The object pushes into his hand and Din holds his breath. One of Paz’s tentacles — the first or third, he isn’t sure — curls around his fingers.

“That’s…”

It curls and uncurls until he turns his palm up and the thing is moving in his grasp. Paz makes a needy groan, one leg falling open, and Din stares at it all with big eyes behind his visor. “Can you get off like this?”

“Don’t kn… know—“

Din withdraws his hand, fluid dripping from his skin, and Paz sits up with a frustrated and guttural growl.  _ “Din—“ _

“I’ve been waiting  _ months  _ to get fucked,” Din snaps back. His hand comes to his cock, dripping with precum, and it’s the first proper attention he gets. “So fuck me, even if I have to wait for eggs.”

Paz huffs and shoves himself forward, grabbing Din to push him down on his back. He hits the ground again with a grunt and Paz looms over him, straddling him until he moves back. He takes the back of Din’s knees and spreads him apart, his first tentacle emerging, and Din feels a spike of excitement.

He remembers how this felt the first time, but the promise of something making it feel good again overshadows the discomfort. Paz hitches his knees over his hips and Din sucks in a breath as the tentacle’s head pushes against his hole. He does his best to relax, and the head pushes through his ring of muscles, forcing itself through. Din grasps and grabs at the floor with his hands, coming up with nothing, and he’s just tugged closer.

The tentacle continues to push. It goes deeper and deeper, and Din tries to hold himself together. He  _ tries.  _ He’s panting but he feels it again, feels the slick that drips from his hole, feels the tentacle dive deeper inside him. “Fuck,” he whimpers.

_ Fuck. _

“So tight,” Paz sighs above him. His grip on Din’s legs is like durasteel. “So  _ small.” _

Din would quip back that he’s not  _ small,  _ Paz is just  _ huge,  _ but the tentacle hasn’t  _ stopped.  _ “Paz!” he shouts, and squirms though his legs are locked in place. He can feel how it’s reached just as deep inside him as before, if not deeper, and he gasps for breath as he writhes on it. “Oh, f-fucking—“

It comes to a stop, and he lets out a breath. Paz is out of breath between his legs, panting, and for a moment they get to just settle. Din tries to draw air back into his lungs, even as he trembles, and Paz’s hands release his thighs so he can slip his arms beneath Din’s back. Din whimpers as he arches up, grabbing at Paz’s shoulders,  _ “Gedet’ye—“ _

Paz sits back, pulling Din with him, and Din gasps before realizing that he’s sitting on top of Paz now. The larger Mandalorian lies back, hands coming to grip Din’s thighs again. “Breathe,” he murmurs.

“Bre—“

The tentacle pulls back and begins to thrust inside him. Din lets out a cry and grabs desperately at both Paz’s cuirass and the floor, whatever hold he can get, eyes squeezed shut. He tries to squirm but he’s pinned in place. The thrusts start slow, but then begin to build up speed, and Din is panting. “Oh,  _ Maker,”  _ he moans, and he strains against Paz’s grip, desperate for  _ relief.  _

Beneath him, Paz is moaning, too. He lets go of Din’s legs to grab his wrists, instead, pinning them to his chest. Din tries to pull away with no luck and lifts his hips, but the tentacle  _ itself  _ seems to stiffen and pull him back down—

“Breathe,” Paz says.

“What makes it—“

The tentacle stops and seems to shudder inside him. Din pants for air. Then it begins to thrust again, slow, and Din starts to relax. Each thrust starts to get better, smoother, easier. Whatever it is seems to seep into him, taking effect, and he drops his head between his arms. “Fuck,” he whispers, heart pounding, and he rocks back on the tentacle. “Oh f—  _ Paz,  _ please—“

Paz moans beneath him. He bucks his hips up and Din’s breath trembles, he grabs at the edges of Paz’s cuirass and tries desperately to shove himself back onto the tentacles. Paz laughs, a breathy sound, tightening his hold on Din’s wrists. “Fucking beautiful. Wish I could see your face right now.”

It begins to pull back from him. Din stiffens. “No,” he whispers, “no —  _ no!  _ It just—” He lets out a frustrated huff. “It just started to feel  _ fucking good—“ _

Paz laughs. “Calm down.” Din huffs and drops his helmet down on his forearms, trying to catch his breath, and Paz runs his thumbs over Din’s wrists. Din squeezes his eyes shut.

Behind him, another tentacle starts to press inside him.

“Wait,” Din breathes, “which is—“ He twists to look, but it’s another pink tentacle rather than the purple ovipositor he was expecting. He makes a disappointed whine in his throat and Paz laughs again, giving his wrists a tug. “I thought…”

“No eggs. Next week.” Paz lifts his wrists back, pulling Din to lie down against his chest, and squeezes him. “F-Fuck…”

Din gasps as the third tentacle burrows its way inside him. He’s so  _ slick  _ that it goes in with little resistance at all, and he can feel it filling him up. He moans, shifting his hips, as Paz’s arms wrap around his waist. He trembles, grabbing at Paz’s shoulders. He needs  _ something  _ for a hold. Paz moans, holding Din tight like he can’t bear to let go, chin of his helmet tapping against the top of Din’s. Din squeezes his eyes shut. The tentacle drives inside, and Din shudders, it isn’t as thick as the first one but it finds its way and  _ thrusts— _

It’s a deeper pleasure he didn’t know he craved.

Din squirms, panting, shoving himself down against Paz. The tentacle itself drips with lubricant and it runs down the back of his thighs. It drives into him  _ fast,  _ his body electric with sensation. “Aah!” he gasps, and all he can manage are gasps and whimpers and strained moans, no words possible in his mind,  _ far  _ too gone.

“Din.” Paz sighs his name, holding him to his chest.  _ “Manda,  _ want to… fucking fill you.” Din whimpers into his chest. “See you carry eggs for me. So  _ gorgeous.  _ You’re so  _ perfect…” _

He’s harder than he’s ever felt in his life.  _ “Please,”  _ he begs, trying to grind down against Paz’s armor, his body on fire and desperate. He can feel every push and tug of the tentacle inside him, nerves more alive than ever, forced to feel every inch. He can’t move against Paz’s grip, panting.

“G-Good boy.” Paz’s hand comes to the back of his neck, the other across his back, and he’s out of breath himself. “Good. Good…”

The tentacle pulsates but doesn’t stop. Din lets out a choked noise, trying his hardest to get friction on his cock, but he can hardly move.  _ “Paz,”  _ he begs, “P-Paz —  _ fuck!  _ Ple—please — fu—“

Paz throws them both over, lying between Din’s legs, and his body rocks with the motions of the tentacles’ thrusts. Din throws his arms around Paz, and Paz growls above him.

“Can’t wait to  _ fucking  _ fill you. To see you take every egg.”

Din finds himself desperately wishing he had waited a little longer, held off on his travels just one more week, but he’d been too fucking eager. Those thoughts are immediately dispelled by the thrusts picking up, more rapid — and Paz’s hold tightens. Din squirms, voice coming out strained. He’s  _ so close.  _

He won’t last. Can’t. His fingers strain to grab onto Paz, any hold to save himself, but he can’t even try to hold back — the promise of release is far too much.

_ “Paz!” _

Without a hand on his cock, his orgasm slams into him. Din shoves a hand down between them to chase it, panting heavily, jerking fast as he arches his back. “Fuck!”

His body tightens. Paz’s helmet shoves against his shoulder, beskar clacking together, his own hand coming between his legs to grasp the tentacle. “Like that,” he whispers, voice strained, “like that, Din,  _ fucking Manda,  _ so tigh…”

As Din begins to come back to his senses, the tentacle stops. He’s boneless. He barely reacts as the tentacle throbs, and Paz sighs above him, nuzzling in close against his body. Din makes a strained groan. He feels his legs be grabbed and pulled up around Paz, and he halfheartedly moves to cross them at his ankles. He’s  _ exhausted.  _ Inside him, the tentacle continues to throb, and he imagines all the cum being pumped into him.

Maybe that would make him hard, if he had the energy.

Instead, Paz seems to cradle him protectively, one hand on his throat. His thumb traces the edge of Din’s jaw, running against the bare, stubbled skin. The tentacle begins to retract and Din makes a groan, feeling it drag back out of him, and when it pops out he can feel the tapering flow of cum spill out of him. The appendage still leaks, and Paz lifts it. Cum drips onto his lower stomach, running down between his legs and over his hips, leaving him in a pool of it.

“Beautiful,” Paz murmurs as he cleans off the head of the tentacle against Din’s thigh.

Din tilts his head back, going slack all over.

Paz pulls back, but Din’s eyes are shut and he takes a deep breath. His legs are lowered back down and Paz kneels between them. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and two fingers push into him. Din sucks in another breath. “You’re a mess…”

Din feels like one.

Paz pulls away from him entirely, but returns soon with a hand towel. He’s gentle in wiping between Din’s legs and over his stomach, cleaning him up, and Din lies still. “Are you okay?” Paz murmurs. Quickly, the cloth is covered in white, but there’s far too much cum still seeping out of him.

Din winces and pushes himself to sit up. The exhaustion hits him like a brick. “Yes,” he says, and Paz sets aside the cloth before coming behind Din. The Mandalorian slots in at his back and drags Din into his arms, holding him tight. Din doesn’t fight it. He melts back against Paz’s chest, letting his eyes flutter shut once again.

“That was good?”

“Mhmm.”

Paz nods and rocks them slowly. Din doesn’t entirely mind being coddled after something that intense — and  _ intense  _ isn’t quite enough to describe what they’ve just done. Cum leaks from his battered hole and he sighs, letting his head tilt back onto Paz’s shoulder. His belly is rubbed in circles and Din lets his body relax, slumping. Paz’s helmet leans into his. He doesn’t mind being pet, either.

“Next time,” Din murmurs.

Paz gives him a squeeze. “Next  _ week.”  _ His hand slips down between Din’s legs and fingers brush against his cock, earning a resistant grumble. His fingers drift lower to his balls, feeling him there, and then come to the soft skin of his inner thighs. Din squirms a bit but relaxes. Paz hums as he seems to examine him.

“You’re… simple.”

“Thanks,” Din huffs.

“No, I mean—” Paz chuckles at his back. “Human mating. It’s simpler. Although your reproduction process takes so  _ long.” _

“One month compared to nine.”

“Right.”

“Can I fuck you, too? Or do you have teeth that will bite my dick off?”

Paz laughs and gives him a squeeze. “No teeth there,” he says. “We can… figure it out. I want to try.”

Din nods and shifts against Paz. He’s starting to feel sleepy, and if he doesn’t move then he’ll end up drifting off. He blinks his eyes open, then glances up to Paz. He lets out a sigh. “I think you gave me a fetish,” he says.

_ “I  _ gave it to you?”

“Well…”

Paz strokes along his jaw. He lets out a breath and his hold on Din is secure, comforting. “Would you let me see your face when we do it?”

That wakes Din up, and he looks to Paz with a jolt. He shifts but feels the cooling, drying cum between his legs. “You want to…”

“You can say no,” Paz says, his voice soft and quick and taking a turn into nervous. It’s almost… cute, and Din stares up at him as the older Mandalorian suddenly fumbles. “I just… we’re already doing  _ this,  _ making children, and I just thought — I’d like to… see your face. See all of you.”

“You want to marry me,” Din says.

Mandalorians didn’t always marry for love. Sometimes, it was only a matter of compatibility for raising children. Din had never had a  _ passion  _ for children, and figured if he were to marry, it would be for love. But now…

“We don’t have—“

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

He can’t see Paz’s smile but can feel it. He’s wrapped tight in strong arms and squeezed in a bear hug. Din lets out a near squeak,  _ “Paz.” _

Paz eases his hold, about to pull away, but Din grabs his wrists and pulls him back. Their lower halves have become cool and sticky, and Din is in desperate need of a bath. Whatever eased his discomfort before now seems to be wearing off, and his insides don’t feel happy about what’s been done. After they’ve both calmed, they begin to get up and dressed.

Paz fares better. He dresses with ease. Din has to ignore the discomfort of both wet and crusted fluids on his skin when he pulls his pants back on, not willing to bother with his beskar. He gathers it up in his arms instead, and they start walking back. If there’s a stiffness to his gait or more cum running down his thigh, he doesn’t let himself think on it.

He just focuses on Paz’s hand on his back, and the security it gives him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a  
> Al'verde - commander  
> Gedet'ye - please
> 
> Thanks to everyone on the Mando kink server who's encouraged this shit. They are wonderful and so accepting that they all deserve medals.


	3. New Games: An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before getting to the real thing, Din wants to try something out. Paz is more than willing to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the tease, and for the shortness of this one. But wanted this bit to come next, before we get to the awaited fertilization. Promise we're getting to it!

“I’m just telling you now that medically — well, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know shit about this.”

Maora looks at him with crossed arms. Din leans back on his palms on the bench, eyes flickering towards Paz who lingers by the door with arms crossed, before returning to Maora. “So what are  _ projected  _ risks?”

“You’re going to have something blocking your digestive system for a month, and that can bring up a number of issues,” Maora says. “It could be lethal, I can’t predict how your body is going to react. They go in a decent size and will come out bigger. They might have to be surgically removed if your body can’t… expel them.”

“Sounds worrying,” Din says, though he finds that he doesn’t feel worried at all.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Maora asks. She looks towards Paz, then back to Din. “His species isn’t well documented. We don’t know what kind of effect this could leave on you.”

“I want to,” Din says with a nod. “I’ve thought it through.” He can’t quite tell her he’s incredibly turned on by the idea and that he’s mostly motivated here by lust.

Paz walks over, then, setting a hand high on Din’s thigh. His thumb presses in and Din spares him a glance. He’s gotten… almost clingy in the past few days since Din’s return, and Din isn’t sure if the eggs are a cause. Din sets a hand on top of Paz’s and Maora glances between them with a sigh.

“Alright,” she says. “In that case… I’ll be there when the time comes in case anything goes wrong. I don’t have the tools for a surgery to remove them, so you’ll probably be making a trip up to Nevarro’s medbay.”

Din grumbles at the thought. But Maora walks away to tend to a foundling grumbling of a stomach ache on the other end of their ‘infirmary’ and he gets up, Paz’s arm quick to come around his waist. “You’ll be okay,” Paz murmurs, bumping their helmets together. “I know you can handle it.”

“How much longer?”

Paz lets out a breath. “I… feel it,” he says. “But not yet. Few more days.” He pauses. “You’re really certain you want to do this? You don’t feel like…”

Din takes a step, then throws up his arm and his weight against Paz. The larger Mandalorian is caught off guard and he stumbles back into the wall, shoved there and held by Din. He grabs at both the wall and at Din’s arm, leaning back at an awkward angle.

“Keep asking, and I’ll  _ eventually  _ say no.”

Paz stares down at him. Then he pulls Din in closer, their helmets clacking, and Din is almost tempted to let his hands roam and start something right now. But this tunnel is used, even if no one is here right now, and anyone could turn the corner. So Din makes a huff and pushes back from Paz with a frustrated grumble.

“No eggs yet.” He bites his lip.

“Not… Not yet.”

Din watches him. His helmet drifts down to Paz’s crotch — everything looks ordinary with the codpiece in place. He doesn’t dare reach out, not here, but looks up at Paz who straightens. “We can still…”

“I’m not as…  _ functional.  _ At this stage.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking about.”

Paz’s head tilts to the side, but then he draws in a breath. “You mean…”

Din drops his voice low. “I don’t know how I’ll feel when I’ve got your eggs inside me,” he says, “so if we still have to wait to get started, then might as well try something in between then.”

Paz watches him with held breath.

“Our spot, twenty minutes.”

Paz lets out his breath and nods, and Din smiles, turning to walk away with satisfaction in every step.

Admittedly, he runs a little late. A little one asks for help fixing their helmet’s malfunctioning HUD, and though it’s a simple wiring issue, he has to fetch the tools to get to the wires. Then, he has to go grab a small bottle from his stuff, just in case, and make sure he’s cleaned his gloves.

When he does come to their spot, Paz is waiting, and he huffs at Din. “You said twenty.”

“Well, twenty-five.” Din just grabs Paz’s arm and steps in to bump their helmets as an apology, only for Paz to huff again and grab him. The breath is squeezed out of him and he nearly stumbles before pushing back. “... I can’t fuck you if you break my ribs.”

“Fine,” Paz mutters, and releases him. Not far — he still keeps a hand on Din’s waist. Din runs his tongue over his bottom lip before reaching for his belt. Paz’s helmet tilts down to watch, and he tugs Din closer, hand slipping down to cup his bulge. Din draws in a silent breath and Paz hums, gaze fixed. Din works his belt off and opens his pants. He can’t contain a gasp as Paz pushes his hand in, grasping his cock, and a gloved thumb runs over his base.

“Hm,” he murmurs, voice inquisitive.

“Are  _ you  _ going to make me wait now or are you going to strip?”

Paz looks up at him and lets out an amused huff before he steps back. His hands are quick, removing each piece of armor, but Din takes his time. He unclasps each belt, taking them off and dropping to the side. His weapons are settled down beside the wall and his focus is much more on watching Paz.

Din has never been incredibly picky about his sexual partners. Whatever odd parts, whoever was better suited for fucking the other — whatever allowed him satisfaction between hunts without sacrificing his Creed. And by no means did he ever really go  _ back.  _ He was open about no anticipation of a further relationship.

He has experience. 

But this is still  _ new. _

When they’re both stripped — well,  _ excited  _ is one word. Din’s cock is hard and he grasps himself, but he’s far more interested in what Paz has. Din steps up to him and the larger Mandalorian grabs at his shoulders, sucking in a breath when Din’s fingers come between his legs. “Slow.”

“Right. It’s your first time.” Paz scoffs at Din’s teasing tone and Din just shifts his focus to exploring. On the outside, things don’t seem much different to a cunt, though without anything like a clit. The skin is slick, and Din presses two fingers inside. Paz draws in a breath.

“Din.”

“You’re tight. Lay down.”

They make the adjustment. Din kneels between Paz’s legs and works his fingers as deep as he can get them; a third joins easily, and while the internal walls seem to grip his fingers, they also give with the stretch. He eases in a fourth and slowly thrusts.

Paz gasps and writhes beneath him, muscles clamping down on Din. “Fuck — that’s —  _ Din…” _

“Good?”

_ “Fucking  _ good!”

Din lets out an amused breath. “Wonder how much you could take.” He’s throbbing between his own legs as he tucks his thumb and presses his fist forward, slick running over his wrist. Paz gasps and spreads his knees wider, head tilting back, and he’s panting.  _ “Manda,  _ that’s hot.”

“Maker…” Paz all but whimpers beneath him, and Din smirks, filled with satisfaction. He starts to thrust his fist forward and back, a slow but steady pace, and Paz gasps. He grabs at the floor, fingers scraping, clamping down  _ hard  _ on Din’s wrist. It’s wet and slick enough that Din has no trouble, and Paz grabs at his wrist. “Faster!”

Din smirks, happy to oblige.

Paz whimpers, grabbing Din’s other forearm for a grip, and tries to shimmy down to get more. Din lets him, out of breath himself. “Fucking hot,” he breathes. “You—“

His fist bumps something. He pauses, earning a huff and whine from Paz, but he opens his palm and presses his fingers forward. Whatever is in front of him is… _the_ _egg sac._ Din brushes his fingers against it and finds it to be larger and more bumped than when he had first discovered it. Paz completely _shudders_ at the touch, a small and guttural whimper escaping. “Must be full.”

“Din,” Paz begs.

Din nods. He begins to thrust his hand again and Paz moans, panting. Something else brushes his hand, this time quickly identified; one of the smaller pink tentacles brushes his hand again before curling around his wrist. “That… you?”

“No. No,” Paz pants. “M… Minds of their own.”

The tentacle squeezes his wrist as though trying to keep him moving. Din lets out a groan and tugs back, the tentacle just sliding tighter, but manages to pull himself free. He slides his arm back and Paz makes a groan, huffing. “Din—”

“Let me fuck you.”

Paz just leans his head back with a huff, shifting his knees.

Din moves closer. He looks down and sees that the tentacle has slipped out, dripping with its lubricant while it seems to search. Din takes hold of it and it shoves forward against his hand to thrust through his grasp. Its head brushes against his abdomen — and then the thing is suddenly following down between his legs, slipping past his cock to between—

“Hey.” Din grabs hold of it and it’s slippery, but two hands squeezing get a good hold. He pauses and stares down at the tentacle as it writhes, calmed only when he strokes it, and then at Paz. “... Can you fuck me  _ while  _ I…?”

Paz lets out a shaky breath. “I guess. W… Won’t have the… the aphrodisiac fluid.”

Din keeps stroking, considering the thought. “Probably wouldn’t draw this out long,” he says.

“Doesn’t have to be long.”

That’s true. While the covert is aware of their intentions, there is always a chance of someone walking out this far, and being faster lessens those chances. Letting out a breath, Din strokes the tentacle some more before guiding it back between his legs. He takes another deep breath and lets go of it, hands dripping with his lubricant, and the appendage has no hesitation before it finds its target. The tentacle shoves its way inside him, slippery and smooth as it drives into him, and Din gasps and hisses.

“Fuck,” Paz moans, and he reaches up to grab Din by his bicep, tugging him down onto Paz’s chest. Din sucks in a breath and catches himself, held up on one elbow, the other hand grasping at Paz’s shoulder. The tentacle shoves itself deeper into his body, more of the length disappearing inside him, lubricant and cum dripping down his thighs. His thoughts are whited out, so focused on keeping  _ some  _ thoughts in reach—

“Din!”

Din grasps his cock and shoves himself inside Paz, letting out a groan.

He nearly releases right there. Paz is so much  _ tighter  _ with the tentacle taking up half the room and muscles clenching around his cock. The tentacle still moves, so _ fucking deep inside him— _

It finally stops. Din is panting. For a moment, they just lie there, and Din can feel how full he is from the tentacle. He drops his helmet against Paz’s chest and makes a choked noise, feeling Paz’s hands stroke down his shoulder and torso, another hand on his neck. “You feel fucking  _ good,  _ Din,” Paz breathes, and Din whimpers. “P… Perfect. Fuck. Move—“

Din starts to thrust. They’re slow and pathetic, and he moans again, trying to thrust with the tentacle sitting inside him. It’s pulsating and soon begins to move with small motions of only a few inches. Din lets out a cry. His heart is racing, his muscles trembling.

It’s too much.

It’s too  _ good. _

The tentacles pulls back and starts to  _ thrust. _

Din can barely make a choked noise but the tentacle shoves him forward, driving him into Paz. It moves back again and pulls him with it before pushing again as though setting the pace for him. Din moans, then, grasping at Paz’s shoulder for another grip, trying to brace himself.

“Din,” Paz groans, and the muscles tighten further around Din’s cock. The Mandalorian is breathless beneath Din, tugging him closer, grip tight on his arms. Their helmets knock together and Din whimpers. He shifts on his knees to brace himself, trying to get his own thrusts going, if he even can when the tentacle is  _ so fucking deep  _ and fucking him  _ into  _ Paz—

“I’m — almost—“

Paz is panting beneath him.  _ “God,  _ want to hear you when I f… fill you,” he gasps. “Din, so  _ good,  _ so hot, love you, just…”

Din grasps desperately at the floor.

“See you full of my eggs—“

“FUCK!”

Din cries out, unrestrained, voice echoing off the walls. The orgasm overtakes his senses and he tenses up, shoved deep as he clenches around the tentacle, and he’s trembling. “Paz,” he whimpers. Arms hold him tight and he squeezes his eyes shut as the tentacle continues to thrust inside him. His energy is sapped. “Pa…”

Paz rolls them over, weight on top of Din to straddle him, and Din squirms and gasps beneath him as the tentacle drives deeper. Their helmets knock together again and the appendage moves  _ faster,  _ the thrusts turned quick and short and Din grabs desperately at Paz for some sort of brace.

Paz hisses and then stiffens with a groan. The tentacle stops in place, pulsating, and Din takes gulping breaths. He tilts his head back and hands rub over his thigh, almost massaging him, and they lie there together as cum is pumped inside him. They pant heavily and Din can’t bring himself to move. He lets out a soft gasp as the tentacle begins to pull back. It slips free and cum drips between his legs, both from the tentacle and his hole. He shifts and rolls his head to the side. Paz’s fingers slip beneath his helmet to stroke his jaw.

“You okay?”

Din sighs. “Best,” he says, “and  _ weirdest  _ orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Paz chuckles and taps their helmets again before getting off him. This time, they brought things to clean up and they get to work. Din takes a cloth and tries to clean himself, but the endless dripping of more cum from his body makes it… annoying. Paz cleans himself off with ease and chuckles at Din’s efforts before dragging him to sit between his legs. Din huffs.

“You make it messy.”

“Next time, it’s fertilizing our eggs.”

Din draws in a breath. Paz’s hand runs over his stomach as if to punctuate it and while his body is spent, the use of  _ our  _ manages to give him almost a warm feeling. He finds himself reaching for Paz’s hand, threading their fingers, without much thought behind it. Paz pauses before taking his hand and holds onto it tight.

“... Are you still willing to say vows?”

Din shifts to get more comfortable.

“When we’re cleaned up,” he says, and Paz squeezes him in his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, guys. Super appreciated.


	4. The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Paz go move forward with their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, we're going to end up with 6 chapters. Which... fuck. This was supposed to be a oneshot, goddammit.
> 
> This chapter, then the next, will stay within this current portion of the timeline. Then, the 6th is a timeskip, because amongst all this tentacle eggpreg porn I also want a fluff end. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Their vows are said in front of a small group of witnesses. Their tribe is not one for big ceremony, not in these times, not when it’s secrecy that keeps them alive.

Their souls are bonded. They’re congratulated, and their tribe indulges in some desserts as their entire celebration — Din is thrilled to taste uj’alayi cake again. But there’s nothing grand, nothing particularly romantic, and once it’s over everyone fades back into their daily routines.

Din takes a deep breath. He doesn’t feel particularly different. They’ve spoken vows of protecting each other, raising children in the Way, but it seems yet to settle in. He turns and grabs Paz’s hand for his attention, dropping it when he has it. Paz looks down at him as he steps close.

“Are we…”

Paz lets out an amused breath, slipping his fingers beneath Din’s cuirass to tug him closer. “You’re eager.”

“Paz.”

“Tomorrow.” Paz leans their helmets together, a smile in his voice, but Din can hear his labored breath and see the discomfort in his posture. “Want to… see your face then. When I’m filling you up with my eggs.”

Din swallows, looking up, and grabs his wrist. “You’re still making me wait. Could we at least…”

“I feel… full.” Paz lets out another shaky breath, chest rising and falling. “Too fu — it’d just be… uncomfortable.”

Din sighs. Paz bumps their helmets together again and draws him into his arms, against his chest.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Paz drags him through the tunnels, leading further and further into spaces that he’s never seen before. Din has only ever entered the sewers from the entrance in the bazaar; he knows there’s a lava river that leads out beyond the city, but he’s never had reason to see it, never gone this far out. It stretches further than their sparring area. Din isn’t sure where they’re going — their fellow Mandalorians are well aware that they need privacy. They passed the privacy threshold a good time ago.

“Paz,” Din says.  _ “Paz.” _

“In here.”

They stop in the middle of a tunnel and make a turn through a doorway. They stand now in a room — it’s similar to one that the forge sits in, a large circular space with various control switches fixed to the wall, a large metal tank tucked away, a few tables with cobwebs everywhere. At the opposite side of the room is a collection of blankets and pillows and sleeping mats, creating something like…

“Is that a… nest?”

“Yes.”

Din furrows his brows but the proud tone in Paz’s voice is unmistakable. He’s tugged forward by his  _ husband  _ and the larger Mandalorian turns just before the nest, pulling Din into his arms. Din grabs at his chest for balance and looks up at him.

Paz’s arm holds him tight around the waist, drawing out a hitched breath. His other hand comes beneath Din’s helmet, cupping the back of his neck as a thumb runs along his jaw. Paz’s breath comes heavy and Din can feel the shifting bulge in Paz’s trousers, his skin electric at Paz’s touch.  _ “Cyare,”  _ Paz murmurs.

_ “Cyare,”  _ Din says back, nerves already alight with anticipation.

Fingers begin to take off his cuirass. Din’s heart is pounding but he helps, something  _ different  _ about this, as Paz works to strip him. His armor is set just outside the parameters of the nest and Paz starts on his own as Din strips down his clothing.

Soon, they stand bare, only their helmets remaining as a barrier.

Paz grabs Din’s hand and sits in the nest, pulling the other down with him, and they sit facing each other. Paz tugs him closer and Din obliges with a smile. Paz’s fingers come to his helmet, slipping fingers beneath the rim, and the smile fades as Din fights the urge to pull away.

He’s worn it for so long. He can do this. He’s allowed this. Spouses can see faces; he’s always known this. The entire purpose of marriage was that Paz wanted to be able to see him, but now that they’ve reached the moment, he finds himself starting to freeze up.

“Din?”

Din draws in a breath. He nods, even if his stomach is a knot.

Paz looks at him for a moment. His hands don’t move, and then they disappear entirely. “What?” Din whispers, but Paz reaches for his own helmet. He lifts it off in one motion, letting it drop and roll away — Din stares at him. His heart continues to pound as he looks into light brown eyes, speckled with gold. Paz’s hair is kept short, but just long enough to thread fingers through, and he’s…

He’s handsome.

He looks entirely human.

“Oh,” Din whispers.

Paz chuckles. His face looks flushed and he tugs Din closer, dipping his head to press his lips to his throat. “Want to see you,  _ cyare,”  _ he whispers, and Din’s breath hitches, tilting his head to the side. Paz takes in another shaky breath, his grip tightening. “Fuck. Din. Feel so fucking full.”

Din swallows.

“Let me see you.” Paz looks at him, eyes pleading. “I want to see your face when I fill you. Breed you. Want to see my mate.”

Din reaches for his helmet.

The  _ hiss  _ of the breaking seal is loud in his ears. His heart is pounding harder than ever but he lifts the helmet and the visor passes over his eyes, exposing his face to the cool air, to  _ Paz.  _ Din draws in a shaky breath, letting his eyes adjust to loss of the HUD, instead to what’s in front of him — the first person to see his face in years.

Paz runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His hand comes to Din’s cheek, cupping it, and Din almost flinches at the feeling of being touched there. But it feels nice and he leans into it with blush coloring his face. He reaches up to run fingers through his helmet-mussed hair and smooth it back, then gasps when he’s tugged forward into a kiss.

He’s never been kissed.

They both fumble. It takes them a few moments to figure it out, the new sensation, but then neither can pull away.

“Perfect,” Paz pants, and he rolls his hips up into Din. “Absolutely perfect.”

Din stares at him, face hot with blush, then gasps as he’s pushed down onto his back. Paz crawls on top of him and their lips meet again, moving together, a tongue pushing into Din’s mouth. Din can’t help a moan, spreading his thighs. Paz makes a pleased sound and something wet and warm brushes against Din’s belly.

They part and Paz moves to press kisses to Din’s neck, trailing down towards his chest. Din looks down at the first tentacle that’s emerged from Paz, pink and wet and exploring Din’s skin until Paz reaches a hand down to grasp it.

“Tell me you want this,” Paz murmurs, his breath ghosting against Din. The younger man shudders. “You want me to fill you with my eggs. Fertilize them. Watch you carry for me.”

“Waited this long for it,” Din whispers back.

Paz looks at him, their gazes holding. He smiles and strokes his tentacle with a slow hand. “Pretty boy,” he murmurs, before his arms slip beneath Din’s back and pull him into his lap. The released tentacle slips along his skin as Din grabs at his shoulders and he gasps, feeling it brush past sensitive spots. “Look at me. Perfect mate. Want to see you.”

Din’s heart races. He’s already out of breath just with anticipation and Paz’s arm is strong as it holds him in place. His other hand is on Din’s throat, a thumb stroking his cheek, and Din swallows as their gazes hold together. Paz’s eyes are dark with lust and Din sucks in a breath as the tentacle’s head presses against his entrance, round and wet and slick. It pushes through his ring of muscle with little fanfare, and Din gasps as it slips inside.

He hunches over. Paz’s grips tightens and fingers weave into his hair, fisting, forcing his head back up. “Look at me,” Paz growls, a command that runs shudders through Din. “Gorgeous…”

He can’t get used to the sensation. Din tries to hold himself up as the tentacle drives deeper into him, filling him like it has before, and he digs his fingers into Paz’s back. “Maker,” he gasps, voice strained. “Paz.”

Paz doesn’t move beneath him. The tentacle does its work, still going deeper and deeper, and Din can’t keep looking as he squeezes his eyes shut. Paz chuckles and tugs him closer by his hair into a kiss, quickly turning deeper as Paz cradles his cheek and licks into his mouth. Din burns all over, panting, every defense down in a matter of seconds.

“Please.” The tentacle stops and Din rewraps himself around Paz, burying his face in his shoulder. Paz strokes his back, one hand on the nape of his neck. The appendage drags backwards, then thrusts up, and Din lets out a strained whimper.  _ “Maker,  _ fuck, fuck, Paz, that’s too— shit!”

He squirms against Paz’s grip. Paz’s grip tightens and he’s panting himself, leaning forward. “You know it’ll… be good,” he breathes. He rolls his hips up. “Good soon.  _ Din.  _ Fuck. Waited so long for — for this…”

Din lets out a cry that tapers into a whimper. He’s sure the tentacle is going deeper than it has before, or maybe he’s too out of it already. Slick fluid drips from between his legs and small, strained sounds escape his throat. Paz rolls his hips again, nudging just a little deeper, and Din can’t move as he clings to Paz for his life.  _ “C… Cyare,”  _ he gasps. “Paz.  _ Manda…” _

Paz pants by his ear, leaning back, and he grips Din’s thighs. “Perfect.” The tentacle stops moving and their bodies are pressed flush together. Din shudders and looks up, seeing Paz’s eyes watching him with  _ hunger.  _ He draws in a shaky breath and when the tentacle begins to pull back, he whimpers and buries his face again.

“You feel so good.” Paz’s teeth brush against his shoulder and he shudders again at the sharp sensation. Din is overheated, panting, and when the tentacle shoves back inside, he almost squeaks. A tongue drags against his skin and the pace goes from slow to quick in a matter of seconds, the slick appendage  _ shoving  _ its way into his guts, and Din is so rapidly overwhelmed that he whimpers and pushes at Paz. Paz grips him tighter. “Wait. Din.  _ Din.  _ Fuck—“

For a moment, Din is desperate to pull away, too much to take without the aphrodisiac. The tentacle drives itself deep again and again at a rapid pace, tunneling through him. “Paz,” he gasps, shoving at his chest, but Paz’s grip is strong, “need the —  _ please—“ _

The tentacle stops and throbs. Din freezes, then lets out a breath of relief before the fluid can even have its effect a few seconds later. It feels as though it smooths his nerves over, relaxing his muscles, and discomfort fades into pleasure. He moans as the tentacle gets a few more thrusts in, then whines as it slips out, already exhausted.

Paz chuckles and strokes his back, hand sliding up to dig into Din’s hair. He fists the curling locks, drawing Din away from his shoulder to kiss him. Their lips touch. It’s light and gentle, and Paz runs his other thumb over Din’s hip. “Ready?” he murmurs.

Another tentacle brushes between his legs and Din looks down at the ovipositor as it peeks out of Paz, hovering between their hips as if awaiting his permission. Din takes a deep breath, his body throbbing for an ache with it, and he lets it out. “Please.”

Paz pulls him into another kiss, just as gentle. His tongue pushes into Din’s mouth, one thumb slipping against his canines to hold him open, and Din feels the throbbing increase. His cock has gone entirely untouched, now desperately hard and leaking pre-cum and his hand slips down between his legs—

“No.”

Paz pulls his wrist away and Din makes a frustrated sound in his throat, cut off when Paz lifts him. He’s laid on his back on top of the nest’s bedding. Paz’s hands grip the back of his thighs and push his legs up, knees by his chest, held there as Paz near-straddles him.

“Perfect mate.”

Paz reaches for his hands and Din gives them. Both are pressed back to the floor above his head, held with an iron grip, and Din draws in a shaky breath. As the thick purple tentacle nudges against his entrance, Paz’s eyes watch him, fingers intertwining with Din’s.

“Please,” Din gasps.

The tentacle pushes against him, forceful against the ring of muscle, until it  _ thrusts  _ inside him. Din jerks and arches his back, panting, and Paz moans. “Finally get to have you,” he breathes, and his fingers dig into Din’s hands. The appendage slides inside him, inch after inch, path already slickened. “Dreamt so long and you’re mine. Look at me.”

Din’s breath trembles but he opens his eyes and looks up at Paz. Paz licks his lips, expression both lustful and soft, and he moans again. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and Din feels another jolt of arousal at the praise. “Good. So good. You look  _ beautiful  _ with my eggs, our eggs, it’ll be  _ perfect.” _

The tentacle feels wonderful inside him, and after a few moments, it settles. Paz dips his head between his arms, taking deep breaths, and then he tenses with his breath held. Din watches and Paz’s grip tightens on his hands, verging on painful. He rocks his hips forward and Din’s breath hitches—

Paz relaxes with a groan of relief.

The ovipositor swells and Din gasps. He leans his head back and tenses, squirming with no escape, when the first egg starts to push into him. He has to stretch around it, a moment that has him squirming harder, and Paz’s weight settles more heavily on top of him. When it’s past his rim, it brushes his prostate to make him moan, almost a reward. “Good boy,” Paz praises. He sounds out of breath. “You look  _ gorgeous,  _ taking them.”

The second egg follows. Din trembles, gripping back at Paz’s hands, and he digs his teeth into his lip as it pushes inside. Paz looks relieved with each egg that leaves him and their gazes hold, even as Din’s expression twists with both strain and pleasure.

“P-Paz.” He swallows. “Let me c… cum.  _ Please.” _

His voice cracks and Paz’s hand slips to grasp his cock, stroking slowly. Din leans his head back, whimpering, and his wrists are pinned by one hand as Paz’s lips come to his throat. Teeth scrape against his skin, and he’s just at the edge with all sensations ready to drag him over.

“Please,” he begs. His heart pounds and he squirms, held in the press, and an undignified, guttural whine escapes his throat. He’s so on the edge, but Paz is more concerned about marking him than getting him off, earning Din’s desperate tugs at his grip. “Paz. Ple…  _ please.  _ Fuck.”

“Want you to feel it.” Sharp teeth dig into his skin and Din swallows back as another egg is planted. He squeezes his eyes shut, so  _ close,  _ and Paz chuckles with his breath ghosting against Din’s throat. “You look so good,  _ cyar’ika.  _ Wish you could look like this all the time for me. Full and pleasured.”

The hand slowly strokes him. He tries to keep count of how many enter him but as Paz kisses him, his focus is lost. Soon it stops and Paz gives him another soft kiss, his tentacle beginning to pull out, until it pops out of Din with a  _ squelch.  _ Din groans. Paz kisses him again. He eases off of Din, letting his knees come back down, and Din doesn’t move.

“Good boy.”

Din looks down and his belly is swollen again, curved up with the presence of the eggs inside him. Paz strokes his hand over the side with a loving touch and Din leans his head back, still trembling all over.  _ Manda.  _ The third tentacle brushes against his thigh and Din lets his knees fall open, drawing in breath, Paz’s hands on his thighs.

“Come here.”

Paz lies beside him and an arm slips beneath Din, pulling him close, and Din shifts over. He groans at the movement of the eggs with it, stretching him beyond what he felt capable of, but Paz pulls him half on top. He presses kisses to Din’s shoulder, teeth scraping against the sensitive spots, before he reaches down to guide the tentacle into Din. Din whimpers. He grabs at Paz for a grip and braces himself.

“Good boy.” Paz makes a sound in his throat almost like a purr and he presses one hand against Din’s belly, the other gripping his thigh to hold him open.  _ “Love you,  _ Din,  _ cyare, riduur,  _ mine. Love that you’d — you’d… fuck. Do this. You’d let me do this. You’re perfect.”

The slippery appendage has little work to do in reaching the eggs, the way eased by the previous tentacles. Din moans as it begins to thrust. Paz presses kisses along his neck and shoulder, up to Din’s jaw, nibbling gently along, his hand continuing to caress where the eggs sit. “Paz,” he whimpers, arching his back only slightly. “Let m… me cum,  _ please.” _

A hand grasps his shaft and begins to stroke. This time there’s far more purpose behind it and while the tentacle thrusts towards a quick finish, Paz’s hand pumping him quickly, the utter strain his body is taking—

Paz’s breath against his skin, ghosting over him, is enough for Din to be shoved across the line. He lets out a choked whine as he releases, panting as he reaches back and grasps at Paz, and for a moment the pleasure is too much and he’s out of breath with such lightheaded—

The world goes dark.

He wakes to the feeling of a tentacle pulling out of him.

_ “... Din.” _

Paz’s voice comes first in his ear, then his vision follows, eyes opening. He’s lying on his side, slouched back against Paz’s chest, and a hand is holding his legs open. He feels the tentacle slip free, retreating, and the immediate sensation of something dripping out of him. Din shifts, the feeling returning of being absolutely  _ spent,  _ the cramps beginning—

“There you are.” Paz still holds him tight and Din makes a soft groan. “You almost scared me.”

Din takes a deep breath and slumps. He is utterly spent, exhausted in every way he can imagine, as if he’s just been hunting one target for weeks without rest. Paz brushes his hair back from his face and presses close along Din’s back with his hand running over the swell in gentle circles. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and Din takes deep breaths against the ache. “You take it so well.”

Din lies still. Paz pulls him back into a kiss, then disappears, his warmth and presence gone. Din takes deep breaths, burying his face in his forearms, and only lets out a soft groan as a cloth begins to clean between his legs. Cum is gently wiped up. More drips from his hole, but the soiled cloth is put away and Paz slips his arms beneath Din to lift him.

The eggs shift. Din makes a strained noise in his throat as he’s seated between Paz’s legs, arms wrapped around Din in a close embrace as he nuzzles at his throat. “Are you okay?” he murmurs.

“Feel full,” Din whines.

Paz lets out an amused breath and kisses Din’s cheek, hands gentle in cradling his belly. “A few weeks,” he says. “You’re so strong, Din. You’ll carry them fine.”

Din’s eyes fall shut as he’s kissed and rubbed. He leans his head back on Paz’s shoulder, relaxing into the snug embrace. Before long, he’s drifted off to sleep, easing away from any discomfort.


	5. Completion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din endures the course of carrying the eggs.

The sight of Din, full of his eggs, satisfies a need so deep that he almost can’t contain himself. He doesn’t want him out of sight. While his abdomen is noticeably distended, it’s nowhere near as large as a human pregnancy. Paz looks at his perfect little mate and feels nothing but content and satisfied, eager to have Din in his arms at all times.

“You don’t have to touch me all the time,” Din huffs.

_ Keep mate happy.  _ It’s deeply ingrained in his senses to make sure Din has everything he could need or want. Paz doesn’t hesitate to fetch more blankets, or bring him food when he’s occasionally hungry, or find games that the covert usually keeps to stave off boredom. If he keeps Din happy where he is, then he doesn’t want to leave the nest, either; it satisfies the need to keep his mate safe and in place, where Paz can protect him and their eggs.

Even if the only threat is Maora.

“I  _ have  _ to check on him, Vizsla,” she growls. Her head is tilted down, the assurance that she isn’t looking when Din’s helmet is off. Din is fast asleep, dead to the world, as Paz crouches over him protectively; he’s helmeted but with a vibroblade in hand.

Paz hisses, practically bristling in his armor.

“Wake him up, put his helmet on, put the knife away.”

“You’re not touching him,” he growls.

_ “Paz!”  _ She huffs. “I’m not going to hurt him or your eggs. I’ve told you both this is  _ dangerous  _ for him. You protecting him like this could be what kills him.”

Paz doesn’t move. Din shifts beneath him, letting out a soft sound from his throat, and Paz presses his free hand against his belly where the eggs rest. He looks down as Din’s eyes flutter open, slow to wake.

“Paz,” Maora pleads. “I’m trying to help.”

“Paz?” Din says, voice heavy with sleep.

Paz looks down at Din, jaw tight with irritation, but Din twists himself. He pushes himself up and his eyes widen at the sight of Maora, quickly turning back to reach for his helmet. Paz growls and grabs onto him in a tight embrace.

“It’s fine. She’s fine.” Din pushes at him until Paz lets go and he does so reluctantly, watching as Din pulls his helmet on. “You can look.”

Maora turns her head and lets out a sigh of relief, crossing the room to the nest. “How are you feeling?” she asks, her voice soft and full of concern.

“... Tired,” Din grumbles. “I’m just tired.”

“Lift your shirt. On the inside?”

Din leans back on one arm and lifts his shirt. There are visible bumps from the eggs but mostly smoothed over, a clear abnormality even if not completely obvious. She crouches and reaches out to touch the side when Paz hisses, grabbing Din’s upper arm, and she withdraws quickly.

“I just feel… full,” Din says.

“Are you eating?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“He’s fine,” Paz growls.

Maora looks at him, then back to Din, sighing. “You have to eat,” she says. “You can’t waste away for these eggs, Djarin. I’d rather send you up to medical and get them taken out than that.”

Paz hisses at that, a spike of fury at the thought of their eggs being harmed, and his vibroblade is up again. Din sucks in a breath and grabs his wrist, pushing it down, as Maora backs away. “Stop,” Din whispers.  _ “Cyare.  _ Stop.”

He eases back, but drags Din with him, pulling his mate between his legs in a protective embrace. He leans his helmet into Din’s, eyes still locked on Maora, and Din sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m… okay.”

Maora just nods and she turns away, starting for the door. Paz watches until she disappears and he pulls his helmet off, letting it fall to the floor with a  _ clatter  _ before squeezing Din close. Din lets out a strained breath and grabs at Paz’s thigh when he presses kisses along his neck.

“She’s not trying to hurt them,” Din says, taking a deep breath. “She wants to make sure I’m okay. It’s her job.”

“I can take care of you.”

“I know.”

Paz lifts off Din’s helmet and turns them on their sides, clutching Din close against his chest. Din draws in a breath, then twists, turning to face Paz. His face is a gift, Paz thinks; both cute and handsome, almost criminal for it to be hidden beneath the helmet. Paz cups his cheek and pushes into a kiss, their lips moving together.

They part with a smile and Paz sets a hand on Din’s hip, running his thumb over his side. Din looks up at him, then shifts. “What will they look like?”

“... Tiny.” Paz runs his fingers over Din’s belly. “They’ll look less… human at first. But they grow into it and look like me.”

Din nods. His eyes turn back up to Paz and he cradles his head on his arm. “Do you remember before the Mandalorians?” he whispers.

Paz stops and his smile drifts. He looks at Din and then the eggs, smoothing his hand over Din’s hip. “A little,” he says. “I was… small. I remember I was part of a clutch of eggs, and we all hatched. Our carrier was Pantoran. We had no home, I just remember… one ship to another, another place, trying to settle. I don’t remember it myself, but I think the war starting was what made it more difficult.”

Din looks up at him, eyes fixed as he listens.

“I remember... some, being little and playing. Running around on transport ships until we were yelled at to sit.” Paz shifts. “We grow fast in childhood. We were loved. And separated, at some point, in a snowstorm on a planet. I remember… being in a hut with my father. It was just the two of us, everyone else with our carrier. That village was attacked, and the Mandalorians saved me.”

He draws in a breath. Paz rolls them, turning onto his back and pulling Din on top of him. Din grunts, but adjusts to straddle his waist, leaning forward on his hands on either side of Paz.

“They didn’t find the rest of your family,” he says.

Paz shakes his head. He sets his hands on Din’s waist, one thumb brushing over the bump the eggs create. “A Vizsla found me,” he murmurs. “My  _ buir.  _ I told them I had family somewhere but they never found them until later. All dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Din says.

Paz shrugs. The memories do hurt — the knowledge that he’d had a large family of others like him, all destroyed and completely lost. That it had taken years to ever find someone of his species again. That he had settled for his line dying with him, no Mandalorian willing to undergo the process. Until Din.  _ And so casually. _

“You said before… your finder didn’t know what he’d brought home.” Din’s expression is soft, concerned. He sits back on Paz. “What happened?”

He stops at that, swallowing. “I thought I was human,” he says, in a quiet voice. “They acted like I was human, I had no explanation of my kind, I just… assumed everyone else was like me. I bathed myself, they had no reason to know, not until my egg cycle started when I was older. I remember—” he hesitates at the memory. “The first time I’d ever felt like that. The urge to lay the eggs.”

He presses his hand against Din, who takes it with his own.

“They looked to see what was wrong with me, and—“ he hesitates. His stomach twists and Din’s burrows furrow, squeezing Paz’s hand. “My  _ buir,  _ my family, never looked at me the same again.”

Din’s other hand sets on Paz’s stomach and fists the fabric of his shirt. “You didn’t deserve that,” he says, a tone in his voice of anger. “Never. Your  _ buir  _ was an asshole to think of you differently.”

Paz can’t help a smile and he runs his hands over Din’s thighs, warmth combatting the building shame.

“How many will there be?” Din asks, in a quieter voice.

“Eight is a full clutch.” When Din draws in a breath, Paz chuckles and squeezes his legs. “They might not have all fertilized. They might not all hatch. From what I know, a full eight like my siblings is rare. I’d bet more on… five.”

Din lets a chuckle slip. He lies down against Paz, burying his face against the side of his neck. “Five is a lot,” he whispers. “Five is…”

“I know.” Paz rubs his back. Din is soft and warm when his armor is off,  _ vulnerable.  _ His instincts purr that Din is willing to shed his defenses for him, set his weapons aside.

Soon, Din’s eyes begin to shut. He snuggles against Paz and takes a deep breath, falling limp as he drifts towards sleep again. Paz keeps rubbing circles on his back, lying still when Din lets out a huff and switches onto his back. Paz wraps his arms around Din’s waist, cradling where the eggs sit as Din relaxes again.

“I’ll get more food,” Paz murmurs.

“Mm,” Din says, already back falling asleep.

It’s been just under a month when his stomach starts to cramp.

Din ignores them at first. They’ve come and gone in the last few weeks, and with all he’s been sleeping, his sense of time is off. He manages to swallow down some food and tries to wait them out with a holopad to entertain himself. But the cramps don’t go away, instead ramping up in intensity. Within the hour of them starting, Din is out of breath, and like always Paz is right there at the first wince.

“Din?”

“Shit.” Din lets out a breath, face scrunching at the growing pain. “... Shit.”

He feels like he desperately needs the ‘fresher. Without further thought, he’s wrenching his belt off, a nervous laugh escaping. “I think they’re… uh,” he says, and his breath is shaky, not entirely sure what to do with himself. “Coming.”

Paz inhales and he crouches beside Din, grabbing his arm. “Breathe.”

“I  _ am,”  _ Din snaps. He squeezes his eyes shut against the cramp that rips across his stomach, the ache deep. He shifts onto his hands and knees, leaning back onto his heels, tightening his jaw. “Fuck. Fuck… Get Maora.”

Paz growls. “We don’t need—”

_ “I  _ need!”

They look at each other and Paz scowls at him. Din doesn’t waver, his body feeling hot, starting to sweat.  _ “Maora,”  _ he snaps, wincing again when the cramp tightens. “Shit.”

Paz grabs his helmet and gets up, throwing on pieces of armor and his boots before he disappears into the hallway. Din presses a hand to his stomach, panting as he tries to push, but nothing is there yet. His cheeks burn and he grabs a pillow, shoving his face into it.

He’s never felt like this before.

When Paz returns with Maora, Din is drenched in sweat and trembling. Their approaching footsteps are warning to pull his helmet on and Maora is quick to come to the nest, down on one knee. “Din?”

“Hurts,” Din breathes out, his voice choked.

Maora looks at him and releases a frustrated breath. He can feel her concern over him — they don’t know anything about this. He knows this is just hoping his body can figure it out without ruining him. He feels oddly calm about it, aside from the pain of cramping; he’s felt calm this entire time.

_ Am I really just calm? _

Paz grabs him in a loose embrace and Din leans his head into his shoulder, taking deep breaths.

The cramps go on for longer than he can bear. They were put too deep, he thinks desperately. The eggs are certainly moving along, he can press his hand on his belly and feel that they’ve all changed position, but not moving enough.

His skin glistens with sweat. He’s on his knees, between Paz’s legs, arms thrown around his husband’s waist. He shoves his cheek against his own arm and whines, a pathetic noise that escapes from the back of his throat.

“You’re doing so good, Din.” Paz strokes through his hair, massages his shoulders, trying to relax him. Din tries, in desperation, to relax if it will help the eggs come along. It  _ has  _ to be time. Now time is the question.

His body trembles.

When one egg starts to come, the process picks up the pace. Feeling the first one push along, he’s on spread knees with his hands gripping the wall, panting. He’s holding on for dear life. But the first one passes his prostate and Din shudders, panting, more than ready to be done. As it pops free, Din gasps and grabs at the floor, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Perfect, Din,” Paz says.

They come faster. The next egg, and then a third, easier now. Paz’s hand never leaves his back, gentle in how it rubs up and down. Din grabs at his knee and holds on, his face burning, shoulders red. They keep…

They keep.

_ Don’t fucking cum from— _

The eggs brush against his prostate again and again, and whatever scent is in the air feels intoxicating. His head is spinning. Paz’s voice is a deep murmur in the background. With every egg that leaves his body, he feels a little more relief, a little lighter. He’s sweating.

“Sweet little—”

Din lets out a strained moan and buries his face in his forearms, shuddering as an orgasm comes over him. His mind blanks out.  _ Fucking good,  _ he thinks lazily, eyes falling shut. Paz chuckles beside him, a soft sound he barely hears, and his hamstring is given an affectionate rub.

He feels looser, now.

He pushes out the eighth and there is nothing but  _ relief. _

Paz keeps petting him, praise falling from his lips like a waterfall, even as Din is tuned out from it all. He collapses onto his side, eyes falling shut, but forces them to open. The eggs are small, coated in a hard shell, a soft grey color. They almost look like rocks — and that’s certainly how they felt coming out. Paz strokes Din’s leg but his helmet is turned towards them, his other hand gentle in gathering them together.

“You did so good,” Paz says, his voice soft. “Din. Perfect.”

He wants to sleep for another decade.

Maora doesn’t let him. The next thing he knows, she’s at his side, tugging at him. “You need to see medical,” she says, her voice firm and fierce with a tone that suggests he’ll regret arguing. “Din. Come on.”

“He’s fine,” Paz growls.

“You don’t know that,” Maora snaps back, and she pulls at Din again. “Djarin, come  _ on.  _ You can sleep after. We need a doctor with equipment.”

He’s exhausted, and his body feels like jelly. But he gets up, grabbing onto Maora for balance, and she reaches for his clothes. “Put these on.”

Paz makes another growl, watching them, but he’s crouched protectively over the eggs and Din pays little attention as he begins to suit up. Maora is pacing as he works on his clothing and flight suit, his vest and armor going into place, and he looks towards Paz again whose gaze has turned completely towards the eggs.

With Maora’s firm grip on his arm, they begin walking out of the room, towards the medical house.

Recovery, at Maora’s insistence, means a day of being uncomfortably poked, prodded, and cleaned out. The doctors don’t seem entirely phased by the fact that he was hosting alien eggs for a month, almost like it’s just another case to deal with. But it’s no less comfortable than what he just went through. She hovers nearby, and Din wonders if this is technically breaking the tribe’s “one at a time” rule even if it were for medical reasons.

They walk home later, Maora through the curtain first until Din follows, his whole body feeling like it’s been turned inside out and then back again. “Thank you,” he tells her, as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Maora sighs. “Go enjoy your kids,” she says, “make Paz introduce them eventually.”

She walks away, towards the others. Din feels a jolt of guilt for the stress they’ve put her through for the last month and tries to think up some sort of gift to make up for it. He’d find something the next time he was out, any sort of apology that would be found acceptable.

In the meantime, he obeys her, walking back towards the nest.

As he approaches, soft sounds begin to come from around the corner. Din pauses a moment, then steps around the doorway and looks inside. Paz is fully dressed sans helmet. He’s sitting back against the wall, looking down into his lap where his legs are crossed, and paying no attention at all to Din as he quietly walks in. Din comes closer and stops short at the sight of the small little beings crawling on and around Paz.

They’re not quite… human.

They’re a mesh of both human and tentacle, the size of Din’s fist, and still managing to squirm about. They let out soft mews, almost like kits, and Paz cradles three in his hands while two more crawl about on the floor. Paz’s gaze is adoring before he looks up and smiles at Din.

“You’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” Din murmurs. He walks over and steps into the nest, careful that there’s no newborn underfoot, and kneels beside Paz. He watches the small creature, with half-open eyes and tentacle-y appendages, then turns and sees the hatched egg shells. Beside them are the last three eggs, completely still. “... Five.”

“Five,” Paz says. He turns and looks towards the eggs. “... Some don’t hatch.”

Din looks at him, hesitant. “... Sorry?”

Paz lets out an amused breath. “Nothing to do with you. Come here.”

Din smiles and shifts over to sit at his side. Paz wraps an arm around him and he leans in, snuggling against him, looking down at the newborns. He does feel an odd sense of… pride, almost. Like they really are his children as much as Paz’s, even if all he did was hold them for a time. He was just the incubator, but…

“They’ll eat a lot. Grow quickly over the next few days, might look completely human within the next month.” Paz’s voice is full of fondness, running his thumb over one baby’s head in a gentle pet. “... You feel okay?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a speeder.” As Paz’s hand comes to curl around his thigh, Din snuggles closer. “Mm… I’m fine.”

“Good.” Paz leans their heads together. “Knew you could handle it. Perfect mate.”

Din feels warmth bloom in his chest and he smiles, leaning his head onto Paz’s shoulder. They settle in, silent, simply watching the little ones until they seem to grow tired and sleep where they are; Din’s eyes grow heavy, exhausted from all that’s happened. As Paz strokes his arm, his voice an occasional gentle murmur, Din drifts off to sleep.

They  _ do  _ grow quickly.

As Din begins to feel more normal again, he becomes more of an observer. Paz seems to have all the instinct needed to care for the little ones, and as he feeds them bits of food, they seem to just eat it up with rapid ease.

And they  _ grow. _ Bigger by the day, it seems, in more than just the way adults always seem to say to children. The tentacles begin to be covered by skin, not just growing bigger but more human. By the time two months have passed, Din is careful in learning to swaddle babies who all look 6 months old only… smaller.

Tannon. Sion. Niam. Cadan. Tomas. They’re identical, soft-faced and delicate and squirmy, though Niam is a bit smaller than his siblings as though he’s the runt of the litter. They’re told apart by painted nails, a color for each, though Din is afraid of one mistake permanently mixing them up.

“Do they…  _ know  _ me?” Din asks, his voice soft. They lie together in the nest, all five sleeping between them. He looks at them and feels unyielding affection, running his fingers over Tannon’s front.

“Of course.” Paz smiles at him. “You’re scent-marked. I don’t think anyone outside of my species can pick it up. But they’ll recognize you as their carrier, always.” He reaches down to gently touch Cadan’s cheek with a smile and strokes down his arm. “Remember that Cadan was crying when Gila held him, but calmed when you took him? Carriers are important.”

Din smiles.

Paz reaches out to take his hand. “Are you… happy you did this?” he whispers. “Being their carrier?”

“Yes.” Din squeezes his hand, then looks down at the children again. “Though I can’t say I…  _ want  _ to do it again.”

“I think Maora would kill us both for it.” Paz chuckles, then draws Din into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Din murmurs.

He’s never felt so exhausted. So stretched thin, so needed, even when their tribe is happy to help with all five. He almost craves being sent out to hunt again, if only to get the time alone to truly feel recovered. But no, he thinks firmly. He doesn’t regret this at all. As his eyelids grow heavy, he shifts closer.

Paz’s fingers comb through his hair and he relaxes, protectively curled around their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a  
> Cyare - beloved  
> Buir - mother/father

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a  
> Beroya - bounty hunter
> 
> [Tumblr](https://quilltea.tumblr.com/)


End file.
